


Red Haired and Wild

by DoreyG



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first year for two rather unexpected sort-of-soulmates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Haired and Wild

He meets her on the first day of November. A wild girl with red hair, brown eyes and a certain expression of scorn that’d usually have him hurrying ever so quickly away.

Instead he stops, and _stares_.

“What are you looking at?” She snaps, and he immediately falls in love.

\--

 _She’s_ the first one to ask him out on a date, surprisingly (and necessarily, considering how he hadn’t even got up the courage to say a word to her yet). They go to a greasy diner in the centre of London. She gets chips and a tea so sugary that he can practically hear her arteries screaming, he gets the healthiest (only) salad he can find and his usual black coffee.

“You should be more daring,” she tuts at him, shaking her finger as she shoves her chips inelegantly into her mouth, “more adventurous – life is not to be timidly tiptoed through!”

…He’s definitely in love.

He learns that her name is Audrey Arthur, that she’s twenty five years old and works as a journalist whenever she can. She has two older brothers, one younger one. Her father is Scottish. She likes motor racing (a sport that he’s only just learned about). She seems _bound_ to have been in Gryffindor-

…But she’s a muggle.

He finds that that doesn’t matter at _all_ , as she steals a daring sip of his coffee and makes a face at the taste, “ _boring_ , Mr. Weasel.”

“Please,” he sighs, in charmed tones, “call me Percy.”

\--

He’s never really gone beyond kissing a girlfriend before the third month, and even then the groping was usually only a _timid_ thing, and so it’s quite a surprise when he ends up in her flat on the third week. Buck naked and with her firmly pinning him to the wall.

“Hm,” she says, glancing over him as her red hair frizzes loose around her shoulders, “far better than I was expecting.”

….He chooses to take that as a compliment.

They fuck (for, really, that’s the only _glorious_ word for it) half against the wall and half against the door – her back scraping up against the divide with every thrust. She pants into his mouth, he moans into her collarbone, she _scratches_ him across the back, he grasps her hips helplessly, they both come ever so loudly – his teeth digging into her collarbone and her head thumping back against the door.

“…Well,” she muses afterwards, easing gratifyingly shaky legs down to the floor, “at least we’ve pissed off my neighbours.”

He stares at her.

“They’re _right_ twats.”

…He laughs, breathlessly, and drags her towards the bedroom for another go (they end up fucking in the shower, of course, and against her kitchen counter and upon her table – but them not fucking in a bed until their fourth month together is yet another thing that he doesn’t really _mind_ ).

\--

By the five month mark, five months filled with sex and booze and her mocking practically everything about him, he’s practically moved into her flat on a permanent basis (something that they were both quite surprised about at the start, but that they’ve now grown used to). It’s a longer walk to work, of course, and the neighbours hate them _both_ … But he’s happy.

Wonderfully happy.

 _Gloriously_ happy.

Happy when he wakes up by her side and gets a vague slap on the arm for being up too early, happy when he’s late because they were fucking in the shower, happy when he gets home to find her screeching at the computer for not producing words fast enough, happy when they eat tea on the sofa together (or miraculously at the table, when he’s had a hard day), happy when he makes her groan at night before falling asleep in her arms.

…Happy.

 _Happy_.

It’s quite a blissfully strange feeling, truth be told.

\--

They have their first _proper_ argument, not just vague snapping at each other or Audrey gleefully insulting him, after six months together. They’ve both had long days, the dinner burns and he refuses to just get a takeout (they had one last night, it’s _unhealthy_ ) and they both just _go_.

“Why do you have to be so fucking buttoned up all the time?” She screams at him from one side of the table, face red and eyes glittering.

“Why do you have to be so damned bohemian?” He yells right back, hands balled up into fists and body actually _shaking_ with rage.

It ends, after about half an hour, with him grabbing his coat and storming out of the door. Slamming it shut behind him and marching down the stairs as she continues to screech.

…He returns half an hour later, having brought her a necklace and a box of chocolates as an apology. She’s sitting on the couch when he returns, eyes still red, and staring at absolutely nothing – she even starts when he shuts the door behind him, turns around like she honestly wasn’t expecting him to come back.

“I’m sorry,” he says honestly, setting both necklace and chocolates down on the table.

“…So am I.”

He smiles at her, timidly and just a touch wetly… Draws his wand out of his coat pocket and waves it at the cooker in an absent and barely remembered (well, it _has_ been a wild few months), “and, erm, we don’t have to actually worry about dinner. I’m a wizard, you see.”

She stares at him for a second.

“…I know, I saw you summoning those gross flowers when we were out in the park.”

He _gawps_ at her.

“You know, A week after we fucked for the first time?”

…He has never been so in love in his life.

\--

“Perce,” George (and _only_ George, and that’ll definitely always hurt) says in awestruck tones the first time (seven months in) that he tentatively introduces Audrey to the family, “she is _way_ out of your league.”

“I _know_ ,” he replies, truthfully and honestly as she makes rude jokes with Ginny across the room.

Dinner, surprisingly, goes well. His mother is protective at the start, as expected – he’s a little surprised that she even let Audrey into the house, but soon sees a kindred kind of fierceness and warms. His father simply obsesses over her being a muggle, Fleur and Victoire seem taken by her hair and so Bill soon agrees, George keeps sending him awestruck looks, Hermione looks generally approving and so Ron is left to only make the occasional face besides her, Ginny is still basking in the afterglow of those dirty jokes and so Harry is basking in her happiness in return.

“Your family is large, strange and absolutely fucking wonderful,” she proclaims afterwards, when they’re in bed together (technically Audrey is meant to be sharing a room with Ginny. But, being herself, has instead ended up straddling him on his old and narrow teenage bed) “…Who was Fred?”

…He tells her, and only cries a little bit at the end.

But even that’s alright, vaguely. As she kisses his tears away and wraps her arms warmly around him, half-smothering him in her gloriously red hair.

\--

“I’m pregnant,” she announces on their nine month anniversary, striding out into the kitchen with a test clutched tightly in her hand.

“Oh,” he muses sleepily… and then _spits_ his mouthful of toast halfway across the kitchen, “ _what_?”

Three hours later, when they’ve both called off work and he’s done every single magical test that he can think of to check for pregnancy, he’s forced to conclude that she is, indeed, absolutely and undeniably _pregnant_. Two months along, indisputably with his child.

“We’re keeping it,” she tells him warily, sitting besides him with her hands alternating between her lap and her stomach, “of course.”

“Of course,” he nods dazedly, playing with his wand like he was always taught not to (he can hardly help it, he’s still vaguely considering jumping out of the window and running screeching over the rooftops) “…We’re not even _married_ , though. What will my mother say? What will your father?”

She considers that for a second, her face going whiter than it already was “…Well.”

“Well?”

“We could probably fix that problem by eloping?”

He _stares_ at her for a moment.

\--

She has a friend from secondary school who moved to Vegas in a drug-filled gap year and never quite got up the energy to move back so the ceremony is quickly done. She wears white, he wears a suit. By the time they get back into the car they’re already arguing about baby names.

“Lucy!”

“Molly!”

“Lucy!”

“Molly!”

He kisses her as they drive through the night, she laughs wildly into his mouth with her red hair frizzing and happily wraps her arms around his neck.


End file.
